Chapter Three-Hundred and Forty-Five

Vernon marched into the New York Times office, thankful that he'd gotten out of the house and onto the plane without John or any of the others noticing. "I'm looking for a reporter by the name of Howard Barton." He leaned on the receptionist counter, channeling a little bit of John as he spoke.

She nodded, pointing down the hall to where Barton's office was. "Second to the right." She smiled, watching as Vernon left her alone.

Vernon threw the door open, marching inside of Barton's office and taking a seat at his desk. "Why did you publish this?" He asked, placing the article before the reporter.

"Because that's my job. That band is a hot topic right now, and it'll bring me a lot of income." Barton took his glasses off, leaning forward. "My sources are reliable, and they told me themselves that Johnathan has been using, they reported to me, that he'd relapsed on meth and several other drugs."

"Were there drug tests for this?" Vernon snapped.

Barton tilted his head, realizing that he'd backed himself into a corner. "Well… no… but-"

"Come to LA and well see if John's been using."

Claire sprinted into John's bedroom, frantically shaking him awake as he screamed. "John! John, wake up!" She caught his wrists as he lashed out, holding them steady as he came out of the dream. "You're okay." She smiled, crawling into the bed with him and nestling into his side. She kissed his neck, her lips brushing over his jaw and into that hollow that always got him.

He moaned, moving closer to her, and letting his hips press against her own. "I love you…" He breathed, slowly moving himself against her as his hormones took over and let his instincts run his mind.

Claire smiled, letting him relax until he moved his hand too close to her breasts. "No." She corrected, smacking his hand away. "Not yet."

He bit his lip, annoyed that she'd let him get so far before she snatched the opportunity away. Part of him wanted to turn into Jacob, to take the pleasure he desired from her. But the other part knew to respect her boundaries. "You have got to stop doing that." He whispered, kissing her neck.

"It's only three more weeks. I think you'll be fine." She smiled, fighting off the moan of pleasure at his touch. "Besides, I don't think we want a shotgun wedding."

He breathed a laugh, nipping at her ear and throat. "I guess not… but how do we know that you'll get pregnant the first time?"

She shrugged. "Because, I'm not on the pill and you don't have a condom. And it's always a risk, even with both of those."

He shook his head, wrapping a hand around her hip and moving his lips down her shoulder. "I guess you're right." He sighed, continuing on his trail of kisses down her arm. "But I'm still horny as hell."

"I know. But maybe you can find something else to do."

"Like what?"

She tipped his head up, placing her thumb under his eye. "Maybe try and get some sleep." She giggled, tapping a finger on his nose and cuddling up to his chest.

Vernon stepped into the house; Barton close on his heels. "John!" He called, happy that he'd called them so that he wasn't springing this on John.

John appeared in the stairway, praying that the makeup Claire had applied under his eyes had hidden the circles. "How many tests do you want?" He asked, starting for the little room that they used as a sort of infirmary when one of them got scraped up —after all, with ten teenage boys in the house, someone was bound to get a cut or scrape here and there. "Piss test? Blood, hair, sperm, cheek swab?" He raised a brow as he turned to glare at Barton. "Stool sample?"

Barton paled at the mention of blood, swallowing as he saw John gather a few bits and pieces and lay them out of the table. "Which one would work best?" He asked.

John laughed, lifting a syringe and taking the cap over the needle off with his teeth. "Blood." He poked at his arm, lining the needle up and pushing it into his vein.

The color drained from Barton's face as red life filled the syringe in John's hand. "I'm gonna be sick…"

Vernon handed John a cotton ball, helping him fill the vial for the lab while he wrapped himself up to stop the extra bleeding. "How about a hair and urine sample? Just to be safe."

John nodded, pulling a few strands of hair out of his scalp and tucking them into a bag, before he grabbed a plastic cup and pulled his pants and boxers down. "Good thing I drank a lot of water this morning."

Barton tried to look away as John filled the cup, his face going red with embarrassment. He thought of his own length, ashamed of what he'd thought was a good size when he saw John's. "Y-you don't want to do that in the bathroom?" He asked, biting his lips as he heard John's zipper.

"Why?" John smirked, placing the cup in a plastic bag. "You've never seen a half Greek dick before?"

Vernon gave John a light smack of the back of the head, handing the tests off to Dominic to deliver them to the test center. "Stop being perverted." He ordered, pushing John into the sitting room to wait for his cousin to return. "Go find your fiancée and see if you can manage to not cause trouble."

John swiped at Vernon's arm, still on edge from the nightmare last night. "Get off." He growled, stepping out the door to the backyard.